


Missed Connections

by Whreflections



Series: 30 Winchester Brother snapshots [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Gen, Pre-Canon, Stanford Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-24
Updated: 2012-09-24
Packaged: 2017-11-14 22:46:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/520300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whreflections/pseuds/Whreflections
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Dean birthday, and Sam's at Stanford wishing he could bridge the gap that's grown between them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Missed Connections

**Author's Note:**

> 22\. Capitulate

He’d waited until Jess was asleep, and even now he wasn’t sure what he was going to say.   
  
He’d had all day to figure it out, and if he was honest with himself, it really  _had_  been running through his head almost every minute, even when it shouldn’t have been, like when they’d been out for her birthday dinner. Every time he’d only get so far in what he planned to say before his thoughts would come up short, forcibly halted by the realization that he likely wouldn’t even get that far. Considering how well their last phone conversation  _hadn’t_  gone, Dean probably wouldn’t even answer his phone.   
  
He turned his Treo over in his hand slowly, thinking. If this was before, and Dean could see him, he would be laughing.   
  
 _What, your fancy new phone too difficult for you? C’mon, Sammy, just make the damn call already. Jesus, I’m gettin’ old over here!_  
  
He let out a soft laugh himself at the thought, lips curling up even as his chest tightened. Yeah, that would’ve been Dean, alright, and it hurt remembering. He’d have been teasing him mercilessly -- warm, real laughter that Sam hadn’t heard in far too long. It was going on three years he’d been gone now, over a year since he’d seen Dean at all, and he was missing his brother’s presence so much it hurt. Still, Heaven forbid he ask Dean to  _visit_  him. Last time they’d talked, he’d almost asked, but it had turned pretty quickly into a fight about Sam abandoning everyone who cared about him. After that had come up, he’d been sure it would be a lost cause.   
  
He tapped the corner of his phone on the desk, dropped it to push out of his chair and pace the floor a couple times, gathering his nerve. He didn’t  _have_  to do it, obviously. It wasn’t like they were talking regularly, and really, what was he, a glutton for punishment? Dean just couldn’t understand how he could possibly want school  _and_  a relationship with his brother. For Dean, they were mutually exclusive, and if Sam could’ve just understood that and let it go, they probably wouldn’t have had the last few fights they’d had.   
  
Still, he wanted it too much to let it go. At least not yet. Before he could change his mind he snatched the phone off his desk and dialed, rapid and with hardly a thought. He could’ve punched the numbers in in his sleep, even though Dean had only had this number for about a year. Ever since they’d had cell phones, he’d always memorized Dean’s new number within five minutes of being told.   
  
He was so caught up waiting for the one ring and the ‘What do you want, Sam?’ that he was for a second shocked speechless when it went straight to voicemail.   
  
 _Hey, you’ve reached Dean Winchester, leave me a message if you want me to get back to you. If there’s a real reason you’re calling and it’s urgent, call my dad, John._  
  
The machine beeped, and he licked his lips and started talking before he could over think what he was going to say.   
  
“Hey, Dean. Guess you’ve got your phone off, huh?” He cleared his throat, kicked back against the desk and ducked his head, letting out a short laugh. “Obviously. Anyway, I know you probably didn’t expect to hear from me, but…actually, you probably did. What I meant was you probably didn’t  _want_  to hear from me but, just in case I’m wrong, I wanted to give you a call.” Sam took a deep breath, hand clenching on the desk. “So, ah…happy birthday, bro. Just wanted to call and tell you you’re gettin’ old, see how you’re doing…anyway, I miss you, Dean.” It slipped out, and though he took a breath to steady himself afterwards, he wasn’t sorry he’d said it. “I, ah, I’ve got a girlfriend, and she’s great, but what I’m sayin’ is we’ve got this house near campus, and we don’t have any roommates, and it’d be great for if you wanted to come visit. You know, stay for awhile or something. Anyway, call me if you get a chance. Hope everything’s ok. Bye, Dean.”   
  
He hung up before the machine could cut him off, held the phone cradled in his hand until the backlight dimmed and the room fell into darkness. Here near the window he could feel the cold seeping in around the edges. It was only California cold and he’d had much worse, but he suddenly didn’t feel like staying up anymore.   
  
He left his phone on the desk, snuck quietly back into the bedroom and into their bed. In her sleep Jess nestled against his chest, and it should’ve been enough to clear his mind.   
  
It wasn’t.   
  
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’   
  
Dean set down the gun he was cleaning and fumbled for his phone, snatching it up on the fourth ring.   
  
“Hello?”   
  
“Happy birthday, kiddo.”   
  
He grinned, tried to pretend his heart hadn’t jolted stupidly when the phone rang. He shifted, leaning back against the headboard. “Thanks, Bobby.”   
  
There was a moment of hesitant silence on the other end, then,”You mean he hasn’t called?”   
  
Dean cleared his throat, shook his head even though there was no one there to see it. “Nah, but why would he? He doesn’t even have this number anyway. We had to change phones awhile back, remember? It doesn’t matter.”   
  
“Course it  _matters_. You know I hate watching you two carry on like this, but even  _mad_ , I guarantee you Sam’d call you on your birthday. Let me call and give him-“  
  
“No, Bobby.  _Don’t_.” If Sam couldn’t call him any other goddamn day of the year, he didn’t deserve to get to call him on this one. Petty, maybe, but he was still hurt over being left, and he wasn’t sure when that’d wear off. Maybe never. “I’m serious, ok? He wants to call, he can do some work and track down the number.”   
  
Besides, maybe if he had to do a little research, he’d be more inclined to make the effort. Though clearly, he hadn’t. He’d sworn to himself he wouldn’t expect a call but all the same he had. He really should be learning, though. This just cemented it, something else to add to the growing pile of proof that Sam didn’t really care about him at all.   
  
“Don’t worry about it, Bobby. He’s so busy bein’ a bookworm, bet he doesn’t even know what day it is.” 


End file.
